Missing Summer
This is the first day since last winter that I've worn a sweater. Last night, as I was watching the news, I unhappily noted that the highest number in the five day forecast started with a six. I hate to admit it, but summer is over. I've never liked the cold, so summer has always been my favorite time of year. Over the past few years of my life, it's become even more important to me, as I've been spending more time outside - hanging out in the park, walking, partying, biking . . . the list goes on. Colder weather doesn't necessarily mean I'll stop doing those things, but from now on, it's going to be a bit more uncomfortable and a bit more unpleasant - whether because of ridiculously cold whether or the uncomfortable bulkiness of multiple layers used to keep the warmth in and the ridiculous coldness out. It's a lose-lose situation.
And it's not just about how the weather directly affects me. Winter means that when I step outside, I'm less likely to see, meet, and speak to interesting people. People-watching season is over. The assortment of people is one of the things that I love about Philly, but for the next several months, the world will be a less colorful place - literally and figuratively.
I guess the cold months aren't all bad - they bring the holidays, an excuse to be cuddled and comfy with my lady, the satisfaction of stepping out of the cold into a warm house. It's not enough though. I've always preferred too hot over too cold. In the summer, I make an effort not to complain about the heat, even on the worst days, because I am grateful. I often joke that I love global warming because it means more tolerable winters - and there really is a bit of truth in every joke. On those unnatural winter days when the temperature hits 70, as one part of me fears for the future of mankind (not the earth because nature always finds a way) another part of me rejoices in the stolen moments of warmth.
Oh well. It was a good summer. I'll miss you.
